


Experimenting

by knightinpinkunderwear



Series: Dexter and Rita [3]
Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Asexual Character, Asexuality Spectrum, Between Season 3 and 4, Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, Demisexuality, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, French Kissing, Intimacy, Kissing, Loving Marriage, Married Couple, Married Sex, Oral Sex, Pegging, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Sappy, Sex, Sleeping Together, Smut, Sweet, dexter is awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27075481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinpinkunderwear/pseuds/knightinpinkunderwear
Summary: Dexter gets pegged by his wife. His pregnant wife.
Relationships: Rita Bennett/Dexter Morgan
Series: Dexter and Rita [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1639873
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Experimenting

**Author's Note:**

> This is so fluffy... 
> 
> Rita seemed pretty explorative with her third husband so why not this?

It wasn’t like he hadn't seen a dildo before. Rita had a lot of toys (many more than he ever had, but that wasn't saying much). 

He had known what a strap-on was for years. And Rita had asked him before if he would be interested in, well, _this_. 

That didn't change the fact he was always caught a little off guard by the subject of sex. Not that he didn't like it. Sex with Rita was wonderful. She made him feel good and he made her feel good. He liked to make her feel good, he cared about her. That was why he'd proposed to and married her. 

He had (and still) wanted to be her husband and a father to her children. He wanted to be with her. To show he cared and to make her feel loved.

Besides, after their first night together in _that way_ sex got a lot less nerve-wracking. He'd never really understood the appeal of intercourse before Rita. It made more sense with her.

He still did worry sometimes, that _this time_ would be the time that she saw that gaping empty hole in him, that _this time_ she would see the monster parading around as an average Joe.

Tonight seemed to be one of those times. 

Sex was intimacy and vulnerability. Two things he had generally never been good at. But the way they usually had sex, he was at least accustomed to those forms of vulnerability and intimacy. 

This would be different. A different way to be intimate. A different way to be vulnerable.

He was maybe a little nervous that he would finally do something to scare her off. 

Not that he didn't want to try _it._

Pegging, she'd called it. (And he'd felt too embarrassed to ask Angel and Vince about it. And he'd never liked the idea of discussing his sex life with his sister, despite Deb's lack of discomfort doing the same). 

The idea mildly fascinated him, and Rita had already expanded his sexual horizons on many occasions, and so far nothing had been bad. 

This time was the first that he had to shower beforehand and clean out areas he normally did not. He was a cleanly being. But usually, that did not extend that to putting any amount of soap _inside_ of himself. 

It felt mildly strange and not much what he imagined it to feel. Not that he'd had any sort of solid idea of what it _would_ feel like.

Then the shower was over and he padded down the hall to where his wife waited.

Rita was wearing one of those "baby doll" lace tops, in a pale blue, it looked beautiful on her. Especially how it fell over the growing bump of her stomach. Where their baby (hers and his) grew like a wonderful and stressful parasite.

Under her baby bump, on her hips sat the harness straps for the toy. 

And where nothing usually hung or stood at attention there was a silicone dildo. 

It was an odd visual only in that he had never seen it before. 

She looked good, the strap-on didn't change that. With blond hair falling around her face and onto her shoulders like soft rays of morning sunshine. Or whipped honey. 

"You still interested?" Rita asked. He liked this part, where she checked in with him. 

He nodded, "Yeah," he said, to assure her that he did. His nerves ebbing with the comforting visual of her gaze and the soft understanding and excitement in her voice. 

"Good," she smiled, in the almost breathless way she did when she was trying to hold back a chuckle or giggle. 

She looked at him. He was forgetting something. 

"Are you going to come over here or not, silly?" she asked, tone teasing but in a kind and affectionate way.

"Oh," he realized, "-right," 

Rita giggled. He came to sit on the bed. 

"I should probably take my towel off now too," he said, unknowing of whether he was asking himself or his wife. 

"Probably," she agreed with a fond grin. His gaze dropped from her lovely eyes to her lips, curved upward in such a nice way. He raised a hand to cup her jaw, leaning in for a kiss with eyes closed. 

While it did not make any sense, he felt as though he could taste her smile. It was an intangible flavor, in the way that thoughts had colors and shapes that could not always be translated into the physical world. 

The kiss was not chaste, not rough, not rushed. 

They kissed like there was enough time to cherish it. In a simple, gentle way. 

"Hey, you," he said softly, almost like a hum. 

"Hey, you," Rita giggled back, her eyes tearing up from laughter. He felt a smile tug at his mouth as well to mirror his wife and share in her enjoyment. 

"What should I do?" 

"Do you want to finger yourself or do you want me to do it?" She asked and he had to think about it.

On the one hand, Rita probably better knew how fingering worked as she'd done it to herself and he'd only done it for her a few times. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he was ready to give over that kind of control quite yet. He had to eventually, but maybe it would be less jarring to have something inside of him if he took the first preparation steps. 

"I want to do it," Dexter decided. 

"Alright, I think it'll be easiest if you lie on your side," 

"Okay," he stood folding the towel and placing it on the shelf of his nightstand. 

"Trust me, you'll want lots of lube," Rita said, grabbing the bottle for him as he settled on his side, facing her with both of his knees bent and his arm still propping his torso up. She popped the lid and he held out his hand, letting the cold fluid pool in his cupped hand and fingers. 

The first one didn't sting until he got to the second knuckle. He bit his lip, it was strange. Not unpleasant though. 

"Does it hurt?" Rita asked, brow furrowed in concern 

"No, it's just weird," he huffed, wiggling the finger around in his anus. It had to be an extremely unflattering position, he felt a little ridiculous. 

"Take your time, I know the stretch usually hurts a bit but I don't actually want to hurt you," she said, leaning forward on her kneeling legs to brush away a piece of hair that had fallen into his eyes. 

He smiled, pulling his index out before pushing back into himself with the middle finger as well. _Oh_. That was a little uncomfortable. But the sliding motion was mostly smooth and did not pull as roughly as in the shower with just water. 

Rita pet his hair in a gentle, reassuring manner. 

The strap-on was very apparent from this angle, he quickly noticed. He wasn’t sure how much bigger it would feel than his fingers. Though he was certain that it was bigger. 

There was a spot that was starting to feel good as his fingers brushed and rubbed against it. His prostate probably. Each time it was touched it felt better. 

"Does that feel good?" Rita asked, voice like a hum, leaning down, careful of her artificial junk and distended belly. 

"Yeah," he panted. He was scissoring his fingers out now trying to spread and stretch in ways he assumed would make the pegging easier on him and less likely to hurt. 

He liked the contrast between the strange and kind of good feeling of his own fingers in his ass and Rita's softly brushing through the hair falling on his forehead. 

He figured that four fingers were probably enough (and he didn't really want to figure out how to get his thumb in any way). 

"How should we-?" He asked looking to his wife for guidance, pulling his fingers out carefully, "I think I'm ready," 

"It will be easier if you're on all fours," Rita suggested, rolling a condom onto the false phallus between her legs. 

"Oh," and suddenly the unfamiliarity was nerve-wracking again. Suddenly this sort of vulnerability seemed so much more uncomfortable.

"Hey, you okay?"

He didn't know what to say. On the one hand, he wanted to reply I'm fine. But Rita could see through little lies like that and he didn't want her to be disappointed or to feel like he didn't trust her. She'd already been through two bad marriages. And while he couldn't be completely honest with her all of the time, he didn't necessarily want to lie to her all of the time (besides the thing about killing people, then lying was a necessity).

And if he said he was fine she would be upset later if/when he wasn't.

"I want to see you," he answered, just as Rita inhaled to prepare herself to say something else. She smiled, and he was glad that he could do that, give her a reason to smile.

"I want that too, but I am pretty scared that I'd hurt you, and I just want this to go smoothly,"

"Me too," he said, reaching out to hold her hand.

"First times are always a bit scary,"

"I didn't think they were supposed to be," he spoke, almost not realizing that he had in fact said it aloud.

"I was was a little scared our first time," Rita admitted. 

"I didn't mean to-" he apologized, unable to help the way his brow furrows and his mouth frowns. Rita smiled again. He didn't know why.

"I wasn't scared of you, silly, I was never scared of you," she said, words washing over him like warm water, comfortable, soothing. She squeezed his hand, "I was scared that I'd be too broken for you,"

And if he had any doubt that marrying Rita was the best choice he'd ever made it was out the window now, certainly. They'd both been scared of the same thing.

"You could never be too broken for me," he promised, and it felt like his wedding vows had. Completely honest and incredibly substantial.

Rita's smile grew and she leaned forward, letting their foreheads collide gently.

"I love you,"

"Me too," he replied, meaning it and hoping that Rita could tell he did. He leaned forward to plant a kiss on her face for good measure. He could feel her smile against his lips, it was another one of those beautiful things that felt warm inside. 

He kneeled on all fours, taking measured breaths and reminding himself that nothing would happen. 

It was highly unlikely that Rita would divorce him because of his naked backside. Afterall, it wasn't like she hadn't seen it before. 

The bed shifts as Rita moved to kneel behind him, popping the lube open again. Probably to coat the toy. He looked back over his shoulder. It was an awkward angle to crane his eyes and neck at, but she looked beautiful. And looking at her, no matter how uncomfortable, made him less nervous about it.

"Ready?" 

"Yeah," he answered. 

Then Rita's hands were on his hips, holding his ass in place so that she could get the toy in the right place. 

The blunt head of the dildo brushed and slid against his ass, missing his hole by quite a bit despite his wife's efforts. She let go of his hip with one hand then the toy was against his hole , still stretched from the fingering earlier. 

She pressed the toy in slowly. 

And Dexter let his head drop, it was different than his fingers. The shape of it and the stretch was different. Discomfort bordering on mild pain. 

"You're doing so well," Rita hummed, gently massaging her grip against his hips.

He hissed a little as she pressed more in.

"You look so good," 

"I doubt that," he said, not really understanding what the appeal of seeing him in this position could possibly be. He was starting to sweat, despite the cool air and his nudity, whilst bracing himself as a dildo is slowly pushed into his asshole. He did not feel particularly attractive at that moment. 

"Well, I think you look so handsome, my doting husband, on his knees and taking my cock so well," Rita replied, getting better and better at rendering him speechless. 

His face felt hot for a much different reason now. He was blushing. 

"Are you okay? Was that a little too much?" His wife stopped, cautious and worried.

"You surprised me a little," 

"Good surprise?" She asked. 

"Good surprise," he confirmed, face still burning red, with a nod. This too was a new sort of intimacy. He wasn't sure if dirty talk had ever _worked_ on him before.

Rita rubs little circles with her grip on his hip as she pushed the last of the toy in, her heavy, pregnant belly rested a bit against the top of his ass. 

It didn't feel bad. Just a bit odd and a bit uncomfortable. 

"You can move it now," he said after a moment. Getting used to the sensation of fullness. 

The sliding feeling was not a bad one. It actually felt pretty good, despite the stretch. Or maybe in combination with it. 

Relaxing certainly helped, and the feeling was much less nerve inducing now that he knew what it was like. 

Or maybe what made it feel better was that it was _Rita_. It was _her_ fingers gently massaging their grip on his hips. He'd been afraid that he'd forget it was Rita and that she'd never been disgusted in him after sex.

He'd been worried that without seeing her he wouldn't know if he was doing anything wrong. (Which was starting to seem like a very silly thought, as he wasn't actively doing much of anything at the moment). 

"I'm going to push it back in now," Rita warned him and he nodded. Something in the angle changed, he wasn't sure if it was his hips or hers. But the difference was immediately noticeable. 

The toy pressed and slid firmly against his prostate. And he moaned. Quiet, breathy. An involuntary sound that felt as if it just pushed its way up his throat and out, past his lips. 

"You can- faster," he panted, feeling his toes start to curl. 

"Does that feel good?" Rita asked, with a bit of a grunt, moving her hips quicker against his.

"Yes, please, yes," he answered, the breath from his lungs coming out with force, and yet his words were not far above a groan. 

He could see easily imagine how she must look, honey-golden hair falling a bit into her face, the blue satiny lace of her top shifting and shimmering with her thrusts. Her stomach, round, and full, almost resting on his ass when she bottomed out.

The contrast of black straps around pale thighs that were hardly ever sun-kissed. White stretch marks crisscrossing in parallel patches on either side of her thighs. A sheen of sweat building on her skin and making her shine.

He knew that she looked beautiful. Becuase she was Rita. And every bit of her that he knew of and every bit he hadn't found yet, was beautiful.

Not becuase of some silly magazine style or standard. But becuase everything about her was so much _hers_. The crow's feet around her eyes, the tan lines on her shoulders. The determined glare she set into when she was angry or annoyed. 

It was all beautiful becuase it was _Rita_. 

She made sense, being with her made sense. Because he had feelings for her, feelings that would be so hopelessly confusing and impossible if she hadn't said yes to his proposal. He couldn't conceptualize a life without her for him. That life wouldn't make sense. That life would be so empty.

"I wish I could kiss you," Rita moaned wistfully, and it pulls at his heart (he does have one, and it was for her, for Astor, for Cody, for their baby, and for Deb). 

Her thrusts are languid, smooth, slowing a little, but with enough force and tilt of the hips at the end that he was shaking. 

"I wish I could hold you," she continued. 

"You are-?" He asked, pushing his hips back to meet hers with a light smacking noise from their thighs and a wetter noise from the toy and his ...hole.

"I mean really hold you, against you completely, fuck you slowly, softly, rock my hips into you, make you tremble against me, you reach back to pull me closer, I'll stroke you and I kiss behind your ears as you fall apart like putty in my arms," 

Her words filled him with feverish warmth that left him feeling more sensitive to any and all sensation. To her thrusts, filling him and rubbing his insides just the right way. To where her hands gripped his hips, like a sizzle burning through his skin and running like blood through his veins to his poor, neglected cock. 

Each of his breaths come out like whines. His election was practically screaming for attention, unable to get any real friction as it is pushed with his hips through the air by the force of his wife's thrusts. He didn't reach for his dick even though he wanted to. Inexplicably, he felt he needed permission. 

"I want that too," he whined, fishing the sheets in his white-knuckled and shaky grip. 

His cock drooled precum into the empty space below his hips. The pleasure building up so well and so intensely in his groin, and the near burning sensation of _needing_ to touch himself. Of needing to release. 

"Touch yourself for me," Rita instructed, "I want you to feel good," she continued.

"I do," he grunted, "-feel good," he said, between half pants half moans, shifting his weight to brace himself on one forearm and reaching the other beneath him to finally take hold of his dick. _Oh._

The angle changed, and the strap-on was hitting and rubbing against his prostate harder than before. It was intense, and so was the feeling of his hand on his own erection. Like electricity, beneath his skin (but not like actual electricity, he knew what being tazed felt like, and this was not it) it was both cold and hot and intense like the flashing and crackling of static in the dark. He was almost trembling, the vulnerability of orgasm quickly approaching.

He'd never really liked the feeling much before Rita, the helplessness of his body losing control and getting overwhelmed even though it was overwhelming _pleasure_. But he could be helpless and vulnerable with Rita. Rita was safe. Rita was love. Rita was a face resting against his shoulder, a smile pressed into his skin. Rita was _Rita._

There was no finesse or technique to how he stoked himself, just the clumsy and desperate grip or a loose fist sliding up and down his length, squeezes a little too hard in places becuase he just didn't care. He needed to release, and the occasional scratch of a fingernail, though it hurt it didn't keep the pleasure from building. Faster and faster he pulled, almost in time with the thrust of his wife's hips, _fucking him_ with the toy. His forehead was practically resting on the arm he was holding himself up with.

Dexter came, finally, with a strangled and breathy cry. Rita halted, loosening her grip to run her palms and fingers up and down his sides. Grounding him in the moment and reassuring that him that it was safe to let himself feel so helpless with pleasure that he had little control over his body.

Rita pulled out and he let himself fall bonelessly on the bed, collapsing into the mess he made of the sheets.

His head was turned to the side, towards his pregnant wife. Rita pet his hair, brushing it out of his eyes with that gentle neutral and contented look in her eyes.

"That was ...good," he panted, reaching out to take her hand in his.

"I'm glad," she said, squeezing her thighs together in a way she probably didn't think was that apparent. But from the angle he way lying, it was easy to see.

It was her turn. He pushed himself off the mattress to sit, sweat and ejaculate stuck to his body, but he didn't care just yet.

He was worried about one thing only, helping Rita to reach her own release.

He sat on his knees in front of her, reaching for the closures for the straps around her hips.

"May I?"

"You don't need to," Rita tried to brush off, despite all that she'd done to make him feel good she always got shy about him performing acts solely for her own pleasure.

"I want to,"

"You're spoiling me," she tried to pout, looking as beautiful as ever, happy to be there with him. (He doubted Paul or her first husband had cared much about her pleasure).

"That's the plan," he replied with a grin, placing a kiss on her smiling cheek, pink with a blush. Rita shifted so that she was lying back against the pillows at an incline.

He found the closures, and carefully, reverently opened them, sliding the straps down her thighs, past stretch marks and a few freckles. The toy slid away from her, revealing neatly trimmed pubic hair and slippery pink lips peeking out, shining with wetness. He removed the toy altogether from her legs, placing it somewhere behind him to be dealt with later.

He pressed a kiss on the skin over her heart, his chin brushing the lace trim of her 'baby doll' top. Feeling the hitch in her breath, and her hand coming to card through his hair.

He took the hem of her top, slipping his hands underneath to gently run them over her round, distended belly. He pressed a kiss next to her belly-button.

Rita watched, biting her bottom lip with her canines. He met her gaze, pressing another barely-there kiss to her pregnant belly.

Then a kiss to the tops of each of her thighs.

Then finally a kiss to her clitoris. She hissed, fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him just a bit closer.

He pressed more kisses, open-mouthed and wet against her labia, stroking the outsides of her spread thighs. Rita whined.

He licked her from her opening up to her clitoris then sucked on the bud. Her hips jerked against his face, his nose tickled by pubic hair.

He had gotten quite skilled at the art of eating Rita out in the year after they first had sex, he was vainly proud about it. Even though it was a skill he would not boast about to anyone (it was far to private, and it seemed disrespectful to her). He liked making her feel good, almost more than normal sex.

He liked to make her tremble and whimper with the kiss of his lips and the quirk of his tongue.

He liked the way her thighs shook against his shoulders.

The taste was not bad either. It certainly wasn't comparable to fruit or cigarette-like the cheep erotic fiction his peers enjoyed. It was a different sort of sweet.

Or maybe he enjoyed the taste becuase it was the taste of Rita. The way that her kisses tasted like smiles and warm sunshine.

He pressed his tongue in and Rita moaned.

" _Dexter_ ," she moaned his name as if it were special. That was an intimacy he liked. He liked the way his name sounded, the way it felt on her lips.

He ate her out like she was special like she was irresistible (she was, she was).

Rita chanted his name in high breathy whines, her thighs warm and trembling around his shoulders, her fingers tight in his hair, keeping him in place.

She was in charge here. She was in control. (And as much as he was a control freak he didn't mind giving it up here). Their bed was a safe place to lose control or hand it over.

He pressed a finger, two, carefully in beside his tongue, mapped her out. Finding the little places that drove her wild with practice.

Her heels were pressing into his back now, her hands tugging at the sheet and his hair. She was close.

He pulled his tongue out of her pussy, instead lavving it against her clit. Around and around the sensitive bud as he twisted and quirked his fingers just so.

Then another open-mouthed kiss against her wet and shining lower lips, dragging his tongue and lower lip up to close around her clit again, giving it a little bit of suction.

He had repeated the process twice when Rita squirted against and into his open mouth with his name on her lips.

He wiped the excess fluid up and off of his chin and into his mouth. Rita panted, watching him with a lazy unbelievably warm gaze. He bent, over, watching her through his eyelashes, and pressed butterfly kisses to the stretch marks on her inner thighs. Then the stretch marks on each side of her swollen belly.

The baby kicked. And he and Rita both chuckled at the timing.

"He knows it's his Daddy," Rita smiled, tired and sweaty and still beautiful, "Thank you," she breathed.

"No problem," he answered, "-it was fun for me too,"

"We should probably get cleaned up for bed," she yawned, stretching a bit.

He yawned as well, and the skin of his stomach felt taught and...

Dexter scowled, looking down at his stomach, his stomach that was smeared in his own ejaculate that had started to dry. The texture was _disgusting_.

"What's wrong?" Rita rubbed his arm, gentle concern.

"I'm sticky," he answered, already plotting his route to their bathroom to get a damp rag for the cleanup.

Rita giggled, "I'd offer to help but I can't bend far enough to reach,"

"What does bending over have to do with cleaning up?" he asked with a confused frown, "I wouldn't make you get up-"

"That's not what I meant," his wife said with a fond smile, he wasn't sure what he did to endear her. Then he _did_ know, she'd been making a sexual type suggestion.

"Oh," he uttered, flustered now that he understood the implication.

Rita laughed, "Come here," she requested, and he was helpless to resist. She kissed him in the way only she could.

They separated. He looked at her, awed that she chose to be with him. That she could want _him._

"I'll get that towel,"

Clean up was quiet, mostly wordless, with tender swipes the mess of each of their orgasms was removed from skin and sheets.

Then the towel was placed in the laundry and they were both in their respective nightclothes, the lights were switched off and they were back in bed, pulling the covers over their bodies.

Even though his eyes hadn't adjusted to the dark he knew that Rita was smiling. And so he fell asleep with a smile of his own to mirror hers.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm surprised there aren't more fics about Rita and Dexter experimenting sexually.


End file.
